The other day, my mom came over to spend time with me and my baby. After our visit, I walked her out to her car, and during those few minutes she shared a memory with me that I had never heard before.

When I was about a year and a half old, my mom would take my older sister to daycare several times a week. I was still too young to attend, so after the long drive and dropping my sister off, it would just be the two of us.

Instead of heading straight home, my mom would take me to a little antique tea and coffee shop.

Apparently, we did this three times a week.

Over time, the woman who worked there came to know us. She remembered me by name. My mom would sit and have her coffee, and I would have my own little kid version served in a tiny antique cup.

The funny thing is that I don't remember this at all.

I have a handful of memories from when I was very young, but this isn't one of them. Yet somehow, learning about it felt like gaining a memory I never knew I had.

As my mom told me the story, I found myself picturing it. Just the two of us sitting together in that little shop. She mentioned that it wasn't exactly cheap and that the cost added up over time, but she did it anyway.

Something about that detail stayed with me.

As parents, we often make sacrifices that our children never see and never remember. We spend money we probably shouldn't, take extra time out of our day, and create little moments that may disappear from our children's memories completely.

But those moments still matter.

Hearing that story made my heart grow even more for my mom than I thought possible. It reminded me how loved I was, even in ways I never noticed. It also meant a lot that she remembered those mornings so fondly. The fact that she wanted to share that memory with me made me feel loved all over again.

Now that I'm a mother myself, I think about that story often.

There's a little breakfast spot not far from where I live. My daughter and I go there every so often, and the staff already recognize us. They know my order, and they smile when they see us come in.

Maybe that's how it starts.

Maybe one day she'll be old enough to have her own little cup of tea or order her own breakfast. Maybe years from now she'll remember those mornings, or maybe she won't.

But that's not really the point.

The point is that my mom once created a small tradition with me that I never remembered, yet it still shaped the story of my childhood. And now I get the chance to create those same kinds of moments with my daughter.

I think we're already starting to.

And that makes me smile.